


The Man Makes The Clothes

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [66]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joyce and Ethan have a nice evening out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Makes The Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published July 23, 2005
> 
> Takes place in during the summer after season six. Written for my beloved [](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/)**sadbhyl** who has been asking for a white shirt Ethan story for months now. Finally I got around to writing it for her. Hope you enjoy!

Joyce was putting on the finishing touches to her makeup when a flash of white in her mirror caught her attention. She sought out the cause of distraction, lipstick falling forgotten on the vanity when she saw just what it was.

“Oh,” she gasped.

The self-satisfied grin Ethan wore deepened just a bit more.

He leaned easily against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, and right foot casually crossed in front of his left. He was the perfect picture of relaxation. But it wasn’t his posture that took Joyce’s breath away. Oh, no, it was something else all together.

His shirt was a crisp, white button down, the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing golden bronze skin in sharp contrast. A thin, black belt was cinched about his waist above a pair of so light to almost be white khakis. And on his feet were a pair of light colored canvas boat shoes. The outfit was so completely not Ethan that it worked.

“Joyce?” it came out as a low rumble.

In that moment, Joyce wanted nothing more than to tear open his shirt, revealing more of that deliciously tanned skin. Skin that she had never fully appreciated until it wasn’t overshadowed by the dark, bold shades he normally wore.

She took a deep breath to compose herself. “God, but you’re gorgeous.”

“Careful,” he teased with a flash of white teeth, “you don’t want my ego to get any more out of hand than it already is.”

Slow, steady steps brought her before him, and she reached out to trail her fingers over the smooth cotton shirt. “We really don’t have to go out tonight,” she said, toying with one of the buttons.

“No, my dear, I made you a promise,” his hand came down to capture hers, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss and holding onto it after. “I promised you a night of dinner and dancing to get Rupert and his globe-trotting misadventures out of your head, and that is what you are going to get.”

“I always thought red was your color, maybe blue, and black without question. But not once did I ever consider white.”

“Well, I usually try and avoid it altogether, me being who I am and all. But every so often . . .” he shrugged. “Thought it might be nice to actually blend in with the crowd for a change.”

“I don’t think you could ever blend in,” she smiled, her free hand moving up to caress along his cheek, down his neck, and coming to rest on the patch of skin exposed by the open collar.

“Shall we go?” he looked at her meaningfully. “Not that I would mind spending the rest of the evening in with you, but tonight is one of those rare perfect nights that couples were meant to go out and enjoy.”

“If we must,” she sighed over-dramatically. Current distraction aside, she really was looking forward to exploring the nightlife that the coastal village had to offer.

 

 

They couldn’t have asked for a better evening, balmy with a light breeze coming off the Pacific. It was too nice to eat inside, so they found a quaint open-air seafood restaurant located along the water.

After the waiter departed to put in their order, Ethan fixed her with an intense look. “You haven’t taken your eyes off me for more than a moment this entire evening.”

“And you have a problem with that?” she teased.

“No, I just wish I would have thought of it sooner. Who knew the power a change of style could have?”

“You don’t watch much television do you?” Joyce laughed. “Turn on the TV and more often than not you’ll find a makeover program of some sort.”

“So the clothes do make the man?” he inquired.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. In your case, I think it’s the man that makes the clothes,” she said idly, taking a sip of her wine.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“But not back to the beach house any quicker.”

“Am I really that difficult to resist?” he smiled seductively.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Dinner arrived and conversation continued along a flirtatious note. It was the first time in quite awhile that she had felt so carefree. The events of the last two years had seen to that. But out of it all something deeper had developed.

“I believe this is the first time we’ve gone out to dinner and had something other than Thai,” Joyce said, setting her napkin aside.

“I’ve never heard any complaints,” the corner of Ethan’s mouth rose in a knowing smirk. “But it happens to be the only palatable restaurant in that darling little hellmouth you live on. Why?”

“It’s just something new is all.”

“Are you saying I’ve become a creature of habit?”

She snorted at that. “I think that’s the last thing you’ll ever be. Though now that you mention it . . .”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You’re playing with fire on purpose.”

“Me?” she replied innocently. “Now why would I want to do something like that?”

“Why indeed,” he shook his head. Putting some money on the table, Ethan rose and reached for her hand, “The night is still young, what do you say to exploring the rest of what this town has to offer?”

Joyce had learned by now to know when Ethan was dodging a subject. But she didn’t mind. Tonight wasn’t the night for such things. So she took his hand happily and followed him into the night.

 

 

Paper lanterns ringed the courtyard, bathing the wedding party in a warm glow as they reveled to the Latin beat.

“They couldn’t ask for a better night,” Joyce observed happily, as she and Ethan stood on the sidewalk watching the group.

“I’m certain they wouldn’t mind an extra guest or two,” Ethan whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her to sway to the beat.

She laughed. “We are not crashing a wedding.”

“It’ll be far more entertaining than anything the clubs have to offer.”

“Ethan, no.”

“They’re far too happy to care. And we’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon. There’s no harm in it,” he wheedled.

She turned in his arms and looked at him archly. “Is this a chaos thing?”

“No,” he kissed her lightly, “this is a me wanting to show my girl a good time. Some of the best parties I’ve been to are ones I was never invited to.”

Sighing, “But we leave at the first sign of any trouble.”

Ethan simply shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Shall we?”

“Alright,” she conceded and led the way into the party.

No one seemed to mind that they were there and the only greetings they received were friendly ones.

While Ethan was getting them some champagne from the makeshift bar, a woman in a multi-colored, low cut dress came over to stand by her.

“Can you believe that they actually went through with it?” the woman asked conspiratorially.

“They seem happy,” Joyce replied neutrally, looking at the bride and groom swaying together on the dance floor.

“Now they do. But after what her sister saw . . .” the woman tsked and went on to regale Joyce with the sordid details of jealousy and unfaithfulness. She was well into her story when Ethan joined them.

“I do apologize for the interruption, but they’re playing our song,” he interrupted politely.

The woman eyed him lasciviously. “Better hold on to that one tight, dearie.”

Joyce tried hard not to laugh until Ethan had her in the middle of the dance floor.

“Didn’t I tell you we’d fit in?” he grinned.

“A little too well,” she took a careful sip of the champagne as Ethan twirled her slowly about the floor. “But she was just getting to the good part. Something about the mother-in-law to be trying to seduce the groom and the sister catching them. Or maybe it was the other way around.”

“In that case,” he stopped dancing and made as if to move back in the direction they had come from.

“Don’t you dare,” Joyce pulled Ethan back to her and nearly spilt her drink in the process. “I’d much rather be out here.”

“Would you?”

“Yes,” she said firmly before finishing off the rest of the champagne, realizing too late just how much was left in the glass. Oh well, it would just make her a bit giddy for a while. She doubted Ethan would mind. Taking his glass, she set it on a nearby ledge with her now empty one and directed their steps back into the main flow of the dance floor.

Joyce never ceased to be amazed with Ethan’s talents as a dancer. His rhythm was impeccable. And every move the man made exuded sensuality. There was a certain measured grace that carried over into the rest of his life. He was a rash and impulsive man by nature, but nothing was wasted, everything had a purpose.

He dipped her low and snapped her quickly upright, the blood rushing quickly to her head. That added with to the champagne left her feeling more than a little light-headed. But not in a bad way.

And in her current state, Joyce’s attention was drawn back to Ethan’s outfit. The look wasn’t Ethan, but it suited him. A striking, lithe figure disguised in deceptive purity.

Her left hand slipped from around his neck and came to rest on Ethan’s chest, tracing a never ending path around the buttons. Carefully she eased the top one through its hole, revealing just a peek more sun-kissed skin. She licked her lips in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to taste him. A bit earthy and salty and a hint of something dark and wild.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?” he chuckled, interrupting her current preoccupation.

She blinked, looking up into dark eyes, warm and inviting with a touch of danger. “You said something?”

“I merely asked whether or not you wanted to leave yet.”

Of course she did. But Joyce wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. So instead, “It’s a rare treat dancing with you. But if you’re ready to leave . . .”

“Nice try, Joyce,” he pulled her tight against him so she could feel every line and contour. “Not when all you’ve wanted to do all night is get me out of these clothes.”

“I have not!”

“You practically said as much before we left this evening.”

“Well if you weren’t so damn sexy, it wouldn’t be an issue,” she protested lamely.

“For that I heartily apologize,” and he started to laugh, a low, rich rumble that she could feel as much as hear. She loved that sound.

“You need to laugh more,” she said.

“Be less sexy. Laugh more. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Take me back to the room?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he captured her mouth in a deep, searching kiss.

The room was definitely too far away.

 

 

Ethan was every bit the gentleman on the walk home, holding her close, but doing little else. It was driving her crazy. At the door to the room, he took his time searching for the key and then unlocking the door. She knew he was doing it deliberately. The bastard.

Finally the door was open and she hurried inside. Joyce barely registered the click of the deadbolt before Ethan grasped her wrist and pushed her against the door, hands coming up on either side and trapping her there.

His head dipped and scented along her neck. The act sent goose bumps racing across her skin, and much lower, a fiery heat kindled. He didn’t even need to touch her.

“Already so eager, so ready,” he murmured, lips poised a hairsbreadth from her ear. “What is it you want, Joyce?”

His right hand came down, grazed lightly over her bare shoulder and down, skimming over her breast and continuing down. The touch was so feather soft she hardly could feel it. It could be her imagination. Joyce needed more. Firm, decisive, without a doubt contact.

“What, Joyce?” Just a hint of pressure along her abdomen, then gone.

“You,” she gasped, as the hem of her dress began to rise, the silk ghosting over her skin. “Want. To feel. You.”

The material rose a little higher before it dropped heavily against her skin once more.

“What do you say?”

Oh, she was going to kill him! Eventually. After. But right now . . .

“Ethan, please,” she said, trying to keep the desperation she felt out of her voice.

“Gods, you should see yourself,” he said worshipfully, left hand reaching behind her neck and carefully undoing the tie there. The material cascaded down her skin to puddle at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a simple black lace bra and matching panties. “And the roles are reversed.”

Even in the dim light, the black of her underthings stood in sharp contrast to the white clothes he wore.

Taking her own initiative, Joyce’s hands came up and her fingers made deliberately slow work of unbuttoning the half dozen or so buttons that held the shirt closed. Reaching the bottom, she tugged the tails out of his pants and the shirt felt open, completely exposing his chest for the first time after teasing her all evening. Her hands rose once again, palms coming to rest against his chest, heat radiating against her sensitive skin. Ethan’s breath was deep and steady as she let her hands stay there, just feeling him.

Leaning forward, she bent to place a delicate kiss just below center, where rightly a scar should be. But were there a scar, the man before her wouldn’t be alive. Beneath her lips she could feel his heart beating as strong as ever. A random careless bullet fired by an angry young man had nearly shattered her world.

It wouldn’t do to dwell on such things. Not now. And so she continued lower, lips trailing down his stomach, pausing briefly at his navel for her tongue to come out and quickly tease the flesh just below it. Down she went, her hands finally falling to his waist, working his belt loose and out of her way. Next came the button holding the top of his pants together, followed by the zipper in an agonizing crawl, slow enough to feel each tooth separate. And through it all, Ethan remained completely still, even when his pants fell unceremoniously to the floor, leaving his lower half completely bare to her hungry gaze.

His cock rose, hard, fevered flesh straining for contact. She blew lightly over the skin, pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath and a nearly silent, “Jesus.”

But when she took him into her mouth, he groaned, a long, low sound. Here was her vengeance to repay his earlier teasing. She kept the pressure firm, but not too firm, tongue running flatly and then gently curving. Joyce did everything Ethan liked, but kept the contact as minimal as possible. A deliberate torture to hint at but not give what he desired. And he held out for a considerable time until finally he gave in, fingers threading through her hair and stilling her movements.

She sat back with a smirk while he still cradled her head.

“Darling girl, I have taught you well,” he said with quiet pride.

And then he was pulling her to her feet, hands falling away only to scoop her up into his arms an instant later to carry her into the adjoining room and the bed.

Ethan lay her down gently and joined her, slipping the white shirt off at last and leaving himself completely naked to her gaze. Only she was still dressed, covered in black, constricting lace.

She quirked an eyebrow and he smirked in return.

His fingers hooked in the side bands and quickly drew the underwear down and away. Beating him to the punch, Joyce unhooked her bra and tossed it past his head.

“I was getting to that,” he stated.

“Well, you were taking too long,” she replied, enjoying how his eyes raked over her body.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“One with which you are not well acquainted.”

“I have yet to hear any complaints.”

Laughing, she reached for him, pulling him so that he hovered above her. “God, I love you, Ethan,” she said, memorizing every line of his face as she studied him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you say that,” his voice was rough with emotion as he bent down to kiss her.

Her legs came up, hugging Ethan’s hips and holding him close, bringing their sexes into direct contact for the first time. The slight friction sent tiny waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

“Need you,” she gasped, breaking the kiss and tugging lightly at his lip with her teeth.

“And that I can never hear enough,” she felt him smile as he carefully positioned himself before sliding inside in one steady motion, the soft walls of her channel readily accommodating him.

It wasn’t often that they did this, taking their time and seeking out the spots they now knew drove the other on. The tenderness was reserved for the times when the three of them were together. Not that the near-frantic sex that she and Ethan often had possessed any less feeling, it just . . . well, it was just different. This was special in its rarity.

Joyce arched up into Ethan as he drove deeper inside.

“God . . . more,” she begged.

And as always, Ethan complied, quickening his pace just enough to nearly satisfy, their sweat sheened flesh moving together in the familiar dance.

But it wasn’t until he said the words that she so rarely heard that Joyce came.

“I love you,” he breathed, nuzzling close as they both crashed over.

Long minutes passed as they lay there entangled, coming back to themselves. Ethan rolled onto his back with Joyce nestled close against his chest. And she almost fell asleep listening to the slowing beat of his heart.

Again it struck her just how close things had come that spring. If it hadn’t been for Willow . . . But it had all come at such a price, nearly driving the girl mad with the power and rage she had taken on. Was it worth it? Joyce’s lover and daughter were still alive because of it. And she realized there was no easy answer to that question. She hoped Rupert and his friends at the coven were able to help her.

“Joyce, are you alright?” Ethan’s voice was heavy with concern.

It was then she noticed that her cheeks were damp with silent tears.

“Sorry,” she brushed them away and tilted her head up.

“Don’t be,” he hushed.

She sighed. “It’s just that when I think about how close it came to you not being here…”

“I’m here to stay,” he said comfortingly, but she could see the pain of all that had happened in his eyes. Ethan had said very little about his feelings in the matter, but she knew that what had happened to Willow weighed very heavily upon him.

“I’m holding you to that, you know,” she said, trying to bring some lightness into her voice. “And you know how stubborn I can be.”

Silence descended once again and Ethan’s breathing became slow and regular. She wasn’t far behind.

“I should have taken a picture,” Joyce mumbled as she drifted off.

“So Rupert can laugh at me? Not on your life,” he chuckled sleepily. “Besides, it might give him ideas.”

“Such as?”

“That I might yet become stuffy and respectable in my old age.”

Joyce pushed herself up so she was face to face with him. “Trust me, Ethan, you will never be stuffy.”

“And respectable?” his eyebrow went up in inquiry.

“More than you give yourself credit for. But not too respectable,” she amended. “Too respectable and I’d have no hopes of ever being ravaged again.”

“Ripper has his moments,” Ethan pointed out.

“Yes, he does. But it takes a lot more work.”

“So you’re saying I’m easy?” he stated flatly, eyes dancing.

“You don’t mind.”

“I may be many things, my dear, but easy is not one of them.”

Ethan looked so serious, she couldn’t help giggling.

“I mean it,” he protested.

“Of course you do,” she gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You can’t just kiss this away. My integrity is at stake here.”

Joyce rolled her eyes.

“Joyce, I’m serious,” and he almost managed to sound like he was.

“Ethan,” she looked at him straight on. Patting his chest for emphasis, “Quit while you’re ahead.”

“Not that convincing?” his hand came up to tangle a strand of her hair around his index finger.

“Not really. But I think I’ll keep you. I don’t mind one of my men being easy.”

“Try both.”

“Rupert is not easy.”

“No? Which one of us has known him longer? You just need to know the right buttons to push.” Gentle fingers coasted along her side.

“Is that so?” she asked breathlessly as he toyed casually with one of her breasts.

“Very much so,” he nodded. “I promise to give you a practical demonstration one of these days.”

Practical demonstration? Now this was just getting absurd. And she was very tempted to argue with him on that issue, but she was starting to get a bit distracted. Only one way out of this.

“Ethan?”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“If you insist,” and he kissed her.  



End file.
